


one single thread of gold (tied me to you)

by thesunandthestars



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bughead Fest (Riverdale), Childhood Friends To Friends To Lovers, F/M, Mutual Pining, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, chemistry class shenanigans, like hardcore pining bc these two have missed out on three years of interaction, minor mentions of canon-typical self-harm, some angst bc betty is too hard on herself but it'll turn out okay, the treehouse actually plays an important role trust me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunandthestars/pseuds/thesunandthestars
Summary: “Funny meeting you here, Betts.”It’s just a nickname, she reminds herself,and he’s been calling you that for years!But there’s something about the way he says it now that makes her stomach flip. Maybe she’s getting sick.Or maybe he’s just too damn attractive.“Hi, Jug,” she replies, pressing her hands flat against her thighs and willing her heart to stop doing somersaults. “We’re in the same Chem class! That’s exciting.”-They were inseparable as kids, but, as the saying goes, life had other plans. Now, three years after he transferred to the Southside and left her behind, he’s back, sitting next to her in second period Chemistry and making her heart flutter desperately in her chest.He’s everything she remembers and more, and she’s the girl he’s never managed to forget. Their chemistry undoubtedly extends beyond the classroom, but will it be enough this time? Or will it blow up in their faces, leaving a mess of lab equipment and two broken hearts?[Written for the Bughead Fest 2020, prompt: Chemistry Partners, High School bracket]
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, background Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, background Joaquin DeSantos/Kevin Keller
Comments: 88
Kudos: 189
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, Bughead Fest Collection





	1. one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m baaaaack! And this time I’m here with a Bughead Fest prompt that spiraled out of control enough to necessitate three chapters and a whole lot of words. What can I say, Bughead inspires my wordy tendencies with their utter amazingness. :)
> 
> Much thanks to the lovely colesprousesbandana for betaing this little project and giving me some much-needing encouragement. You’re the best <3
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: Where I grew up, middle school starts in 7th grade, so Betty and Jug haven’t seen each other since they were about 12 and now they’re about 16. Just in case you needed clarification on their ages/grade.
> 
> Read on, lovely humans, and enjoy!
> 
> (Title is from invisible string by Taylor Swift)

_The treehouse is wide and spacious and yet they insist on sitting close together, all three of them sharing the beanbag that Archie’s dad had towed up the ladder one summer. It isn’t uncommon for them to spend hours up here, keeping themselves busy with board games or toys. And when they curl up together on the beanbag, books in hand, Betty is always in the middle, settled comfortably between her boys._

_Archie’s flipping through a new comic book, one that neither Betty nor Jughead have any interest in. They both have their nose buried in a novel—_ A Wrinkle in Time _for her and_ The Phantom Tollbooth _for him._

_“Archie!” Mary Andrews’s voice suddenly rings out through the backyard. “Come inside now, honey, it’s time to get ready for your haircut!”_

_Archie huffs, slumping further into the beanbag. “Aww. I don’t wanna go!” he yells back._

_The door swings open and a red-haired woman appears at the top of the ladder. “Let’s go, Archie. You can come back up here when we get back.”_

_Archie relents, giving his friends a final, “Bye, guys!” and following his mom back down the ladder._

_There’s more room on the beanbag now, but Jughead doesn’t scoot away like he does with other people. He just sits there silently, content with leaning against Betty as he loses himself in the magical adventure before him._

_Knees curled up against his leg, Betty abandons her book long enough to whisper, “You’re my best friend, Juggie.”_

_Jughead looks up, shocked. “What about Archie?”_

_She shrugs. “Well, yeah. He’s my best friend too. But you’re my bestest best friend.”_

_He wrinkles his nose at her grammar, but there’s a wisp of a smile on his face. “Don’t tell Archie, but you’re my bestest best friend too.”_

———

She’s straining on her tiptoes to pin up the left side of the banner, sparkles catching on her sleeve when it brushes the glittery lettering. The ladder underneath her shifts with an ominous creak as she stretches further and further until the left side of the banner is level with the right.

“Lookin’ good, Betty.”

She turns quickly at the voice, startled, but then smiles. The ladder teeters under her. “Thanks, Kev.”

Kevin tilts his head, observing the banner and its towering gold lettering reading _Welcome to Riverdale High!_ “I should’ve known you’d take this welcome committee thing to the next level. How much time did you spend on this?”

Betty bites her lip. “I was up practically all night,” she admits, brushing away a wisp of hair that has strayed from her ponytail. “And then I got up early to bake muffins. I just want to make sure the Southside transfer students feel at home here.”

Eyeing the dozens and dozens of muffins she’d temporarily stacked against the wall, Kevin shakes his head fondly. “You’re one of the good ones, Cooper.” His hands fly to his hips. “Well, you recruited me for your welcome committee, so I’m here to help. Tell me what to do.”

When Veronica arrives twenty minutes later, heels clicking against the hard floors, the muffins have been neatly and meticulously arranged on a table under the banner. “Wow, Bettykins. This is an impressive display. You’re going to win those Southsiders over in no time.”

She shrugs, tugging at the corner of the tablecloth to even it out. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh, but it is.” Veronica picks up a muffin and carefully unwraps it. “Don’t be so modest, B. I’ve never met anyone who’s as dedicated and selfless as you. But you really should spend some time thinking about yourself for a change. You look worn out.”

Betty cocks an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks,” she retorts half-heartedly, knowing that the comment is really just Veronica’s way of looking out for her. 

“You’re still beautiful, of course. It’s just…” Veronica sighs. “This weekend, I’m taking you to that spa in Greendale. It’s not as nice as the one back in Manhattan, but it’ll do.”

She shoots her friend a grateful look. “Thanks, V.”

Veronica squeezes her arm. “Of course. And Kev, you’re invited too.”

“Good.” He grins. “If I’m going to be seeing Joaquin at school every day, I’m definitely going to need a spa trip. My at-home skincare routine is enough if I’m not actively trying to impress someone, but I’ve gotta step up my game if my boyfriend’s gonna be hanging around here.”

“Speaking of Joaquin…” Betty follows Veronica’s gaze past the front doors, where a large crowd of leather jacket-sporting teenagers has congregated. 

“Oh my God. They’re here,” Betty breathes. She smooths out her sweater and tightens her ponytail. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“Betty Cooper is ready for battle,” Kevin teases, watching her march toward the doors with that too-bright smile that’s practically encoded in her DNA.

With one last subtle, stabilizing breath, Betty addresses the crowd. “You must be the new Southside transfer students. I’m Betty Cooper, and on behalf of the students here at Riverdale High, welcome!”

A tall, dark-haired boy drags his gaze over her, lips curled into a smirk. “Cooper, huh? Your parents own that little Northside newspaper that’s always shitting on the Southside?”

His smirk only grows wider when she flounders for a beat. “Yes,” she answers finally, avoiding his gaze. It’s no secret that her parents, along with many of her neighbors, have deep, mostly irrational vendettas against the Southside. Betty, on the other hand, has always been uncomfortable with the stereotypes her community lives by. Sure, there are gangs like the Serpents, who run drugs and do other dangerous things, but not all Southsiders are a part of that. One of her childhood best friends lived on the Southside, after all.

Briefly, she wonders if she’ll see him today. If she’ll even recognize him if she does.

(Could she? Could she even recognize the boy he was when he left her, a ghost of her best friend?)

She clears her throat, ignoring the sneers several Southsiders throw her at her admission. “When you enter through these doors, you’ll find your class schedules organized by last name. There are also complementary muffins. Please be considerate; there are only enough for each of you to take one.”

Burying her embarrassment, Betty hurries back into the building, taking her place behind the table with Veronica and Kevin once more. Both of her friends are watching intently as the new arrivals follow, gazes roving over their leather-clad forms. She catches a glimpse of a two-headed snake on the back of a few people’s jackets, and she clenches her jaw nervously. She had no idea the Serpents recruit _high schoolers_. 

“Damn,” Kevin whistles appreciatively, sharing a look with Veronica. “If I’d known the Southsiders are hot as hell, I’d have transferred over there years ago.”

Betty shakes her head at her incorrigible best friends. “You both have boyfriends,” she reminds them amusedly.

Kevin scoffs. “I can look. Doesn’t mean I’m buying.”

“We both have beaus, yes, but _you_ don’t,” Veronica points out. Her gaze latches onto the boy who’d spoken to Betty just moments before. “Maybe I can help you snag one of these hotties.”

“Mama Cooper would _flip out_ ,” Kevin warns her, but his lips are already curling into a devilish grin. “I’m so in.”

Betty shushes them, cheeks heating involuntarily. Sure, many of the former Southside High students are attractive, but she’s more than a little put off by the snide comments and leering looks they’d thrown her way. The Northside-Southside bias goes both ways, it seems.

The dark-haired boy from before saves her from having to come up with a response, sidling up to the table with his eye on Veronica.

He gives her the once-over for a beat too long before he turns to Betty, plucking a muffin off the table. “You make these, Blondie?” At her nod, he smirks. “‘Course you did. Looks like Mama’s already turned you into a perfect little Northside wife.”

Heat leaps into her cheeks. A couple of the guy’s friends laugh, and Betty can feel her fingers curling into her palms as she turns away, nails pressing into the well-worn grooves.

“Leave her alone, Pea,” a voice says. Then, to her: “Hey, Betts.”

She whirls around. That voice, that face; she could never forget him. It’s all so familiar—soft blue eyes and a gently curved mouth, a grey knit beanie atop a mess of wild, dark locks. Something like home curls deep in her stomach, lighting her up from the inside out.

He’s _here_. It’s really him.

“ _Juggie_.”

———

**Three weeks ago**

“Oh my God. Have you heard the news?”

Three sets of eyes glance up curiously at the glee in Kevin’s tone as he bursts into the student lounge and plops down next to Veronica on the couch. It’s commonplace for him to have gossip to share, but he sounds especially excited this time. “Mayor McCoy’s shutting down Southside High and transferring the students to other schools in the district.”

Betty frowns, out of confusion rather than disapproval. Archie and Veronica wear similar expressions. “Do you know why?”

“I pressed my dad for details, but he wouldn’t tell me any more than that,” Kevin replies, obviously disappointed. “And I’m not sure yet who’s being transferred where, but just imagine! Joaquin could come here. Oh my God, Jughead too!” His gaze flickers back and forth between Betty and Archie, who are both sitting across from him. “How long has it been since either of you saw Jughead?”

“A long time,” Betty admits, smiling wistfully at the memory. It’s hazy, but she can still see it—the day he disappeared down the treehouse ladder for the last time, the way he pulled away from her more and more until he was nothing but a whisper in all the places they once called theirs.

“Okay, wait.” Veronica holds a perfectly manicured hand up. Today her nails are purple to match her silky top. “I feel like I’m missing something. Who is this Jug-head?”

Betty pauses for a moment too long, tongue searching for the right words, and Kevin beats her to it. “He was the original third musketeer, of course: Betty and Archie’s mutual best friend before he went off to the Southside for middle and high school.” He shakes his head. “Sometimes I forget you haven’t lived here your whole life. Honestly, what was it like before Veronica got here?”

To Betty’s right, Archie shrugs in response, but she’s still thinking about Jughead. “He’d always lived on the Southside,” she muses, as much to herself as to her friends. “I guess…” _I guess I was naive enough to think that we were enough to convince him to stay._ She exhales shakily. “I hope he gets transferred here. I…I miss him.”

“Me too,” Archie says, grinning fondly. Betty wonders what memory he’s entertaining, if he even remembers the slow, agonizing ache of losing a best friend. “Man, I can’t believe how long it’s been. How cool would it be to all hang out at Pop’s one day? Veronica, you’re gonna be so surprised when you find out how much Jughead can eat.” He laughs. “He’s seriously, like, a bottomless pit.”

She can’t stand the way he’s talking about Jughead like he’s still here, like they didn’t just _let_ him walk away. Three years later, there’s still a gaping wound in her chest, a slice missing from her heart, and it’s even more painful knowing that she could have done something to stop it but instead let her best friend slip through her fingers like a grain of sand, ordinary and utterly replaceable—two things he is most certainly not. 

She can’t let that happen again.

“Yeah, Arch,” she says finally, letting the smallest of smiles slip onto her face. “That’s a good idea.”

———

“ _Juggie_.”

He’s _here_ , standing not five feet away from her, and Betty can’t remember why she was so worried. He’s the boy she spent hours in the treehouse with as a child, the boy who’d steal her popcorn on movie nights and write in the margins of her books and sneak her chocolate from his coat pockets when her mother wasn’t looking. Jughead Jones is here, living, breathing, _smiling_ , and her heart is pattering like a hummingbird against her ribcage.

He looks so familiar and yet so, so different from the twelve-year-old boy she knew once upon a time. It’s like she’s looking through a kaleidoscope that’s been turned ever so slightly, the colors shifting and locking into place in a new arrangement she’s never considered before. There’s so much she recognizes—the beanie, the smile, the slightly slumped posture. But now his face is narrower, his jaw sharper, his lips fuller. Her eyes trace the line of his shoulders and she’s struck by how much broader they are, how tall he’s become. His hair is longer than she remembers, a loose curl spilling onto his forehead, and as her gaze finds his, her heart drops like lead in her chest, melting in the pit of her stomach.

He’s—he’s _gorgeous_ , she realizes, and then she’s launching herself into his arms and the feeling is everything she thought she’d forgotten. 

“Oh my God,” she cries, laughing wetly into the side of his neck. “I can’t—I can’t believe—”

He chuckles, and she can feel the rumble in his chest. “I missed you too, Betts.” The leather of his jacket is cool against her chin, his heartbeat strong against her chest. He smells like coffee and ink, like the inside of Pop’s and a brand new book, and it’s enough to launch the beat of her heart into a dizzying rhythm again.

Belatedly, she hopes he doesn’t notice.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she admits, pulling away, but not far enough that her hands leave his shoulders. She’d been expecting to resent him, to hate him just a little bit for shutting her out, but instead it’s relief that floods through her veins—he’s here and she’s missed him so much and everything is sliding back into place. “Archie’s going to be _beyond_ excited to see you.”

The corner of his lips lift, so fast that she almost misses it. “Excited to see little ol’ me? How flattering.”

Betty giggles, lip drawn between her teeth. “God, I missed you.” Behind her, Kevin makes a noise, and she’s suddenly hyper-aware of the dozens of curious gazes trained on them. She takes a step back, hands dropping from Jughead’s shoulders and twining together to keep her from touching him again. “Jughead, you remember Kevin,” she says, slightly stilted as she tries to pull herself together. “And that’s Veronica. She moved here from New York City earlier this year.”

“Veronica Lodge,” she clarifies, stepping forward and holding a hand out. Jughead takes it, looking both bewildered and amused. “Resident socialite and bestie to my dear Bettykins over here.”

Jughead nods once before his gaze shifts to Kevin. “Kevin. It’s been a while.”

“It sure has.” He locks eyes with Betty and gives her an eyebrow-waggle. She ignores it, but flushes all the same. “These past few years have certainly been good to you.”

Jughead’s mouth twitches again, but the discomfort is clear in his eyes. He was never very good at accepting compliments, she remembers. “Well, Jug, it was really nice to see you again,” she cuts in, drawing his attention back to her. She wills away the blush that creeps up her neck at the intensity of his gaze. “Hopefully I’ll…see you around?”

“You will,” he promises, eyes dancing with the same playful mirth she remembers from their childhood. “I’m not letting you go this time.” His tone is still teasing but his gaze is apologetic, regretful. 

She knows how that feels.

So she replies, “Good,” matching his playful tone. He’s still watching her, the ghost of a smile on his lips, but he’s not the only one—she can feel his tall friend’s gaze burning into her, and when she glances over, his lips are curled into a knowing smirk.

She looks away, biting her lip against a smile.

“I _hate_ to break up this little reunion,” Veronica butts in, and Betty wants nothing more than to wipe the smug little grin off her face, “but class is starting soon and we need to get this display cleaned up.” She arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the crowd before them. “Run along now.”

The tall boy smirks at Veronica—it seems to be his default expression—and then nods at Jughead. “Let’s go, boss. The Lodge princess is tired of us commoners.”

Jughead snatches two muffins off the table and takes a bite out of one. “See you, Betts,” he says, thumb swiping a crumb off the corner of his lips, and then he’s disappeared into the crowd of Southside transfer students.

He’s always been good at that. Disappearing.

(Into thin air and out of her life.)

But he reappears not long afterward, strolling into Betty’s second period Chemistry class with a book bag slung over one shoulder and his beanie still snug over his dark locks. It fits better now, resting comfortably on his head instead of falling loose over his eyes like it did when they were kids. Before, it was endearing yet quirky and much too big. Now, it’s part of his look, part of his allure.

She buries her face in her textbook to hide her flaming cheeks.

Despite her poor attempt at hiding, Jughead notices her blonde ponytail, the one he’s been secretly searching everywhere for since the Southside got ahold of him and pulled him under, three years before. “Funny meeting you here, Betts.”

 _It’s just a nickname_ , she reminds herself, _and he’s been calling you that for years!_ But there’s something about the way he says it now that makes her stomach flip. Maybe she’s getting sick.

Or maybe he’s just too damn attractive.

“Hi, Jug,” she replies, pressing her hands flat against her thighs and willing her heart to stop doing somersaults. “We’re in the same Chem class! That’s exciting.”

Kevin, her usual partner, is already seated next to her, but he stands quickly upon spotting Jughead. Betty glances at him warningly, but he winks and gestures to the now-empty seat next to her. “Betty’s the best person to show you the ropes,” he says innocently, though there’s a mischievous glint in his eye that tells Betty he knows exactly what he’s doing. “I’ll go partner up with Moose or Josie.”

He darts away, blowing Betty a kiss as he does, and then it’s just her and Jughead and her rapidly beating heart. “Um, so, do you want to sit?”

Jughead snorts. “When have I ever been able to say no to you, Betty?” 

“It’s because I always bribe you with food,” she giggles. “It’s your only weakness.”

Something indecipherable flashes across his face then, something heady that makes her heart stutter. “True,” he says, a beat too late.

The moment’s gone in an instant, washed away by the chatter of their peers and the thump of his bag hitting the ground beside their desk. Jughead slips into the seat next to her, hands resting flat against the cool metal of their lab table, and as her eyes embarrassingly travel over his form once again, she sees it.

_No._

It can’t be. 

Her breath catches in her throat, blood turning to ice in her veins, as her gaze traces the sharp green embroidered snake curling up his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...what did you think? I hope you can handle a cliffhanger for a few days. Because ouch, I really did that to you guys. I mean, they were so happy to see each other again and then BOOM, Jughead’s a scary Serpent and Betty’s heard enough horror stories to have a big problem with that. But it’s all going to turn out okay in the end, because, I mean, this is Bughead. I refuse to accept any other outcome.
> 
> As always, comments are very much appreciated! I absolutely love hearing from you guys and it means so much to me if you let me know how much you’re enjoying (or not enjoying, honestly, I’d appreciate feedback either way).
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, which will be posted in a few days! There will be plenty of chemistry class shenanigans, I promise.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said this chapter would be posted in a few days and now it's been two weeks? Me neither. (Kidding, I do. And I'm sorry for the wait.)
> 
> Before we get to the story, I'd just like to thank everyone who nominated me for this round of the Bughead Fanfiction Awards! I'm seriously so, so honored. Thank you all for loving my work as much as I do and I hope you love this chapter too. <3
> 
> Anyway, back to actual story-related notes: the plot picks up here and there will be fluff, angst, and everything in between, so buckle in! It'll be fun, don't worry.
> 
> Also, Ms. Grundy is in this fic BUT only out of convenience and she is nothing like her Riverdale counterpart. I'll be leaning more toward her comic characterization for this fic, so don't worry if Riverdale Grundy bothers you as much as she bothers me. :)
> 
> As for the scene in chemistry class, all information about the reaction between cesium and water came from a series of Google searches, so forgive me if there are any mistakes. For the sake of this fic I needed to pick an experiment that would have a very strong reaction, so ignore the fact that it's probably a little too dangerous of a lab to be done in a high school class.
> 
> Alright, here you go! Enjoy <3

She knows what the snake symbol means. She just refuses to accept it.

Headlines flash before her eyes, those of dozens of particularly scathing articles her parents have churned out at The Register over the years: “Drug addict found dead on Southside railroad tracks”; “Southside drug bust lands five lowlifes in jail”; and, most recently, “Southside High closes, students to attend Riverdale High: Will the Northside ever be safe from these criminals?” No doubt many of the articles were biased and exaggerated—besides, Northsiders aren’t saints either—but they had to have been born from the truth, right?

And that truth is that the Serpents are a _gang_. Dangerous, reckless, irresponsible, and damaging to themselves and their neighbors. 

And Jughead is a Serpent. 

Horror curls in her gut. It constricts even tighter when she realizes she’s not sure if she’s scared _for_ him or _of_ him.

It must be written all over her face, because when he catches her eye he’s frowning in confusion. “What’s wrong, Betts?”

His eyes are brimming with concern, and it breaks her heart. Jughead, her sweet, sarcastic best friend, is…is one of _them?_ “You’re…a Serpent?”

In an instant, something dark clouds his face, something like hurt and regret. What does he regret, though: the Serpents or _her?_ “I…yeah. I joined freshman year.” He exhales, and it almost sounds like a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “It’s kind of hard to live on the Southside and not join one gang or another. The Serpents, they have my back. They had my back when no one else did.”

_I had your back_ , Betty wants to scream. _I had your back and you left me, just walked away and never looked back._ But there’s something more under the mask he’s wearing, something that tells her she doesn’t know the whole story. Swallowing her indignation, she says, “I’m just glad you’re okay. You have no idea what it did to me, when you left.” She huffs tearfully. “You were my bestest best friend, remember?”

He doesn’t quite smile at that, but his expression is a little bit lighter when he says, “I remember.” But he’s thrown up his walls again, as he did all those years ago, and she refuses to lose him again. Not now that it’s all come rushing back and she remembers what it was like when he let her in.

Betty opens her mouth to say something, but the bell cuts her off, and it jolts her back into reality. She’d forgotten they were in the middle of a crowded classroom, sitting at a table in the chemistry lab. With Jughead, everything else falls away and it’s just the two of them, best friends and yet complete strangers at the same time.

(Will they ever find each other again? Will they ever be able to pick up the pieces and walk back to what they used to be? Or is three years enough to splinter two people for good?)

She wants to know him again. She _misses_ him, for God’s sake. And it’s not just the way he makes her heart pound and her blood sing—he _knows_ her. He knows her habits and her quirks and the little divots in her palms that she’s only ever shown to him.

At least he used to.

Maybe they can find that again. If there’s anything Betty Cooper is good at, it’s not giving up.

So she listens as their teacher, Ms. Grundy, explains the set-up for their upcoming lab assignment. She plays the role of the straight-A student, the perfect girl-next-door, and at the end of the period, when the bell rings and Jughead makes to stand up, she slips her hand into his before she can second-guess herself and squeezes tightly, letting him in just enough for now.

He turns, startled, but doesn’t pull his hand away. _I miss you,_ she mouths. He nods. _Me too._

It’s a start.

———

“So, what do we think of the new Southside transfers?”

Chewing on her lip, Betty glances across the lunchroom, where the young Serpents are crowding around a table and laughing loudly. They look much less intimidating now that they’re no longer decked out in Serpent leather—Principal Weatherbee had banned all gang paraphernalia by the end of the Southsiders’ first day. Now, a week later, most of them have simply exchanged their Serpent jackets for unmarked leather jackets. 

They may no longer be visibly flaunting their membership to the Serpents, but their attitude hasn’t changed—they’re just as boisterous and foolhardy as before. But so are the Bulldogs, Betty muses. It makes her feel kind of dirty, judging the Serpents like this. These people are her classmates, her peers, and she has no way of knowing what circumstances pushed them to join a gang.

Her gaze lands on Jughead, who’s grinning as another Serpent slaps him heartily on the back, and an ugly jumble of emotions twists at her insides.

“They’re fine,” Archie replies, and it takes a beat for Betty to remember what Kevin’s question had been.

Kevin grins. “They sure are,” he agrees, though it’s obvious he means it in an entirely different way than Archie had. “And my boyfriend is one of them.”

“I wish you’d have told us that,” Betty pipes up, pushing her fork around the salad that her mother makes sure she packs for lunch every day. She’s known for a while that Joaquin lives on the Southside—she’s even met him at Pop’s once or twice—but it had been a complete shock to find out that he’s part of the Serpents.

“Whatever.” Kevin rolls his eyes. “It’s not important.”

Arguably, it is. She doesn’t want to say it out loud, but a Southside Serpent dating the Sheriff’s son? It’s more than a little bit suspicious. Joaquin is a nice guy, and he seems to really like Kevin, but there’s a little part of Betty that suspects that their relationship was initiated for reasons other than mutual attraction.

Or maybe she’s just being patronizing and prejudiced. Nowadays, her emotions are so tangled up that it’s impossible to tell what she’s truly feeling.

“I, for one, think Kevin and Joaquin’s Romeo and Juliet situation is very endearing,” Veronica cuts in with a smile pointed at Kevin. “Though I’m not sure who Juliet is in this scenario. Kev, would you fake your death for your beau?”

He screws up his lips in thought before something else seems to flash through his mind, stealing his attention. “Speaking of Romeo and Juliet—” Kevin’s lips curl into a devious smirk “—Betty, are you going to get with tall, dark, and handsome over there or what?”

Face flushed, Betty peers in the direction of his head-nod to find that Jughead’s blue eyes are already pinned on her. She quickly looks away. “I…I don’t _get with_ people, Kev. And besides, I don’t really know him anymore. It’s been three years.”

He waves her off. “Oh, whatever. You can get to know him while you’re _under_ him. Because seriously, Jughead got _hot_. If he wasn’t so obviously in love with you—and if I wasn’t a taken man—I’d take him for a ride myself.”

Mortified, Betty stuffs a bite of her salad into her mouth and avoids her friends’ sly gazes. Well, Kevin and Veronica both look sly. Archie, for his part, just looks uncomfortable.

“Come on, B. You’re obviously into him too.” Veronica arches an eyebrow. “He used to be your best friend—there’s obviously something there you can dig up. And while you’re at it, see if there’s something more, too. Something romantic.” She cocks her head in thought. “Or sexual. Honestly, B, if you just want him for his body, I totally support that. Us women have the right to be in control of our sexuality.”

“Oh my God.” Betty hides her face in her hands, not even wanting to attempt to dignify that comment with a response. “Hey, Arch,” she starts, steering the conversation in a different direction, “you said earlier that you’re working on a new song?”

Archie lights up and begins to explain the lyrics of his newest song, a welcome distraction from the heat that lingers in Betty’s cheeks. Veronica, however, seems unwilling to give it up, and she sends Betty a raised-eyebrow look that clearly says _We'll talk later_ before smiling encouragingly at her boyfriend and humoring him with questions about his songwriting process.

Betty’s gaze strays across the cafeteria once again, landing on the gentle slopes of Jughead’s profile, and warmth blooms in her chest.

———

“Hey, Betty! Wait up!”

She spins around at the sound of her name. Archie’s jogging toward her, weaving through the crowded hallway. “Arch, hey!” She smiles a bit confusedly—she and Archie have grown apart over the years and he doesn’t single her out like this very often. “What…what’s up?”

“I was thinking about what Ronnie and Kevin were saying the other day about getting together with Jughead. Not in the way they were suggesting, but…” He flushes and rolls his eyes. “I invited Jug to hang out at Pop’s tonight, just the three of us. Y’know, to catch up.”

Betty beams at the idea, glad that Archie’s making an effort to reconnect with their childhood best friend. It makes her feel even more guilty for kinda-sorta ignoring Jughead outside of class. “That’s great! What time?”

“Seven,” he says. “That works for you?”

“Yep.” She was hoping to get a head start on her AP history project this evening, but it can wait. It’ll be good to talk to Jughead for real, to have a conversation unrelated to whatever lab assignment they’re working on together. “I’ll see you guys there.”

Archie grins, boyish and charming. So much has changed in the last three years, but not this, his unwavering cheerfulness that borders on naivety. “Awesome. See ya!” he calls, and then he’s disappeared the same way he came.

The rest of her classes go by in a blur, thankfully, because her mind is going a mile a minute, running through all the possible scenarios and praying that she doesn’t make a complete fool of herself just because she has—dare she say it—a _crush_ on one of her oldest friends. 

Her pulse is racing by the time 6:45 rolls around— _early is on time_ , her mother’s voice echoes in her head—and she swings the diner’s door open, the bell jingling overhead. She heads straight for her favorite booth, the one she used to share with Archie and Jughead all the time, and is shocked to find it already occupied by the very person who’s been on her mind all day (all _month_ , if she’s being honest).

“Jug!” she gasps, pleasantly surprised. He’s slouching over the table, nursing a black coffee, and her traitorous heart has already begun to flutter at the sight of him. “You’re early.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his lips when he looks up at her. “So are you.”

Betty exhales a little laugh, shrugging sort of sheepishly. “Always.” She slides into the other side of the booth, folding her hands in her lap out of habit before she remembers who she’s with. “When did you get here?”

“A while ago,” he says evasively, gaze darting away from hers. 

“Oh.” She fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit. The silence that settles over them is not exactly awkward, but there’s a hollow feeling in her chest as she mourns the effortless conversation they used to share. “How are you liking Riverdale High?”

“It’s fine.” Whenever his gaze flickers up to hers, there’s something hidden deep in his expression that she can’t read. “Different. There’s a distinct lack of metal detectors, for one.”

There’s a note of humor in his tone, and she smiles slightly. “Yeah.” A beat or two passes before she leans forward, elbows on the tabletop, and says, “I hope people aren’t giving you guys too much trouble. The Bulldogs especially can be…aggressive, and we both know how deep the prejudice runs in this town.”

Jughead shrugs. “Honestly, Betts, you’re sweet to worry about me, but I can handle a couple of conceited jocks. Besides, Riverdale High is much nicer than Southside was. I haven’t witnessed any gang wars yet, the textbooks are actually from this century, and, most importantly—” he grins “—the burgers don’t taste like rubber.”

She sticks her tongue out in disgust, but the expression is immediately overcome with giggles. “Well, that’s a relief.” She draws her lower lip into her mouth to tame her widening smile, and that hollowness in her chest begins to fill up with a warm, bubbly feeling the longer he looks at her with that little grin reflected in his eyes.

“Hey, kids,” a voice says, shaking Betty out of her daze. She tears her gaze away from Jughead, flushing, and peers up at Pop, who’s smiling warmly down at the two of them, menus in hand even though neither of them has needed one for years. “Been a while since I’ve seen the two of you here together. No Archie?”

“He’s on his way,” Jughead informs him, arms crossed on top of the table. “But I’m going to order now. Archie will understand that I’m a growing boy.” He pats his stomach. “My regular, please, Pop.”

Pop chuckles. “Comin’ right up. And for you too, Betty? Your regular?”

She considers waiting, but ultimately nods. She’s pretty hungry too. “Yes, please. And a vanilla milkshake.”

“Of course,” Pop says. “It’ll be out in a few.”

They both thank him and he disappears, leaving them to pick up where they left off. Betty checks her phone for any messages from Archie and finds none. “Should we have waited for Archie?”

“He’s always late,” Jughead says, and she giggles a little. It feels just like old times, the two of them waiting for him to rush in, red-faced and apologetic. “He’ll be here soon.”

But Archie still hasn’t shown up when their food arrives, and by the time Jughead polishes off the last of his meal (and Betty’s), he’s still nowhere to be found. With one last glance toward the door, Betty pulls out her phone and opens her text thread with Archie. _Jug and I are at Pop’s,_ she types. _Where are you?_

His reply comes surprisingly quickly, but the contents aren’t surprising in the slightest. _Oh man, I’m so sorry. I invited Val over to record a song and I totally forgot I was supposed to meet you guys. Maybe another time?_

She sighs. _Okay. It’s fine._

_Sorry, Betty._ She pockets her phone without typing a response. “Archie’s not coming,” she tells Jughead. “He said he invited Val over to record a song and forgot he was supposed to meet us.”

“Ah.” Jughead doesn’t look as disappointed as she’d expected. “Is that a thing he does now? Records songs?”

Betty nods. “He started getting into music in freshman year. He’s…pretty good, I guess.” She thinks his lyrics are a little juvenile, if she’s being honest, but she can appreciate the effort he puts into his songs and she’s nothing if not supportive.

“Music _and_ football. Very impressive,” he says, a smile poking at his lips. “Well, I have a feeling I won’t be able to relate to any of his music, unless there’s a new and improved Archie Andrews walking the halls of Riverdale High who’s no longer infatuated with sports and girls.”

She laughs, shaking her head fondly. “Nope. Still the same ol’ Archie.” There’s silence for a few beats, and in an attempt to keep the conversation going, she pushes her half-finished milkshake toward Jughead. She wasn’t going to drink it all anyway—too many calories. “Do you wanna finish it?”

He cocks his head. “Are you sure?” Evidently, he still remembers how her mother likes to control her eating habits. She flushes a little but nods, and he accepts the glass. “So,” he takes a big sip, throat bobbing as he swallows, “unless your Alice-imposed curfew is soon, there’s somewhere I’d like you to see.”

Fully expecting a playful comment on the merits of a good milkshake, Betty flounders for a beat. _This is_ not _a date_ , she tells herself to calm her racing heart, though it’s increasingly feeling like one. “Oh, I-I’d like that.”

“Good.” He finishes the milkshake in one more sip and then stands, offering his arm and a wisp of a smile. “M’lady.”

Betty giggles and slips her arm through his. “Imitating Jane Austen, I see. I’m glad to hear you’re still one of the ones who actually reads the book for English class.”

“Guilty,” he says, eyes dancing with mirth. They must look ridiculous, arms linked like two schoolgirls (or like a gentleman and gentlewoman), but for once Betty couldn’t care less. With a goodbye shouted in Pop’s direction from Betty and a nod from Jughead, they’re off, the bell jingling behind them as they step into the chilled late evening air. “I forgot to mention I rode the bike over here, so…”

Her gaze lands on a motorcycle parked not five feet away, a single helmet hanging from the handlebars. “Oh,” she says. “I…my mom dropped me off. So I don’t…”

“You can have the helmet,” Jughead says. “In fact, I insist you wear it. It’s a short drive, I’ll be fine.”

But she’s not even thinking about the helmet situation yet—her mind’s still stuck on the motorcycle itself, a mixture of trepidation and elation coursing through her. She’s never ridden one before, and Alice would have a fit if she ever found out, but at the same time, there’s a strange sense of giddiness that the simple act of rebellion gives her. There’s something completely cliché and utterly freeing about the idea of speeding down the street on the back of Jughead’s motorcycle, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the wind bites at her cheeks.

“Okay,” she decides, daring to shoot Jughead a confident grin. “Let’s do it.”

By the time they turn onto the main road, Betty’s heart is pounding wildly, her knuckles turning white where her hands are clenched together against Jughead’s stomach. She’s both ten times more exhilarated _and_ terrified than she’d imagined, and it’s all over in an instant as they come to a stop on the side of the road and the rumble of the bike fades into the night.

She accepts the hand he offers, letting him pull her onto the solid ground. “You okay?” he asks, amusement coloring his voice as he watches her legs tremble underneath her.

“Yeah.” Slightly breathless, blood still pumping with adrenaline, Betty unclips the helmet resting on her head and hands it to Jughead. Around them is a dense forest, moonlight trickling in through the gaps in the foliage. “Is this Fox Forest? Please tell me you’re not planning on murdering me and dumping my body in Sweetwater River,” she says with faux-seriousness. 

“You’ve been reading too many mystery novels, Tracy True,” he teases. “I just want to show you a place I think you’ll like.”

She follows him deeper into the woods, the cool night air slipping under her sweater and making her shiver, until he stops and turns back to her. “What d’you think?”

Betty’s gaze follows the wide sweep of his arm and she gasps as she takes in the view. They’re on the shore of Sweetwater River, moonlight reflecting off the jet black water and giving it a lustrous glow like the shiny new Mary Janes she got for her tenth birthday. But it’s what’s beyond that takes her breath away—her gaze follows the curve of the river to the right and suddenly she can see _Riverdale_ , lights glowing in the distance like stars. It’s a complete map of their town, lit up in the dark, and it’s _magical_.

“Oh my God,” she breathes. “Jughead, this—” She whirls back around to face him, and his small but affectionate smile chases the cold away. “This is amazing!”

“I come here a lot,” he explains, watching as she spins back toward the view of Riverdale with a gleeful laugh. In the darkness, the smitten look that flits across his face goes unnoticed. “Whenever I get a break from Serpent duties, I sit right here on the riverbank and write. And it’s such a different experience during the day—the town is so idyllic.” He grins. “It makes it even more fun to imagine peeling away that layer and exposing the darkness underneath.”

Betty turns around slowly, eyeing him with a curious tilt of the head. “Jughead Jones,” she starts, lips curling amusedly, “are you writing an _In Cold Blood_ pastiche of our town?”

Jughead shrugs nonchalantly, but she can hear the smile in his voice. “You know me too well, Betts.”

“That’s really cool, Juggie,” she says sincerely. There’s very little she loves more than a good mystery, and one about their sleepy little town with its rivalries and secrets (the latter of which she assumes there are; it’s a small town, but not _that_ small) is even more intriguing. “I’d love to read it sometime. If you’ll let me.”

He sucks in a breath but quickly concedes. “If it was anyone else, I’d say no. For you, though—” he sighs “—yes.”

She clasps her hands excitedly at her heart. “I can’t wait!” He’s obviously very guarded about his story—and perhaps even his affinity for writing in general, since she hadn’t even known about it until a minute ago. But he’s always had a soft spot for her, dating back to the beginning of their friendship. For the first time, she wonders if his feelings go beyond friendship—

No. How could they? She’d blame the fogginess of her brain for such a thought—and him for the fogginess of her brain—if it even was foggy and muddled in the way she reads about in the romance novels she swipes from Polly’s room. With Jughead, her mind feels sharper than usual, like he’s the key to dissolving all the anxieties swirling around in her head and releasing the ever-present tension in her body.

(He calms her mind and makes her heart race at the same time. She’d find it strange if it didn’t feel so right.)

Maybe they’ll never unbury what they used to have—maybe their town’s rift has taken that away for good—but what they have right now is more than she could have ever hoped for and she’s going to enjoy every second that it lasts, every second that she’s beside him and she can _breathe_ for the first time in so long.

“I should probably start getting you home,” Jughead says after a while. They’re sitting on the riverbank now, her toes dipped in the river and his still hidden inside his worn boots. “We can come back sometime.” His tone turns teasing as he adds, “But only if you want.”

Oh, she wants. There’s nothing more peaceful than this—the river gently flowing, the wind whispering in hushed tones, the lights of Riverdale twinkling in the distance. “I’d love to come back during the day,” she says, hands splayed in the grass behind her and feet drumming at the surface of the water, “to see Riverdale in all its idyllic, small-town glory like you were talking about.”

“As you wish,” he replies, a smirk in his voice, and she rolls her eyes fondly as a memory surfaces: the two of them curled up with Archie in the back of his dad’s truck, watching _The Princess Bride_ on the wide white screen of the drive-in. Jughead had picked up the phrase, using it to tease Betty whenever she asked something of him, but he always meant it. Even now, despite the teasing lilt to his tone, the look in his eyes is sincere: _I love you._

(She loves him too. In a friend way, but also in an I’m-unbelievably-attracted-to-you way, an I’d-like-to-put-my-mouth-on-your-mouth-and-see-where-that-takes-us way.)

It takes them no longer to reach the main road, where his bike is parked, than it had on the way there. The sky is darker now, blurring into the tops of the trees, but Jughead obviously knows his way through these woods and they’re racing back to town in no time.

He stops at the end of her street—Alice is undoubtedly waiting at the window for her youngest daughter to come home and would not appreciate seeing her ride up on the back of a Serpent’s motorcycle—and kills the engine as Betty hops off, more gracefully this time. She studies him for a beat, the lines of his leather-clad shoulders and ink-black locks melting into the darkness around them. His voice is light, however, when he says, “Goodnight, Betts,” mouth curved like the crescent moon hanging above their heads. 

“Goodnight, Juggie.” She hopes the darkness hides the way her cheeks redden under his tender gaze. Reluctantly, she starts down the street, her footsteps the only sound in the still night.

The rumble of his engine doesn’t start back up until she’s safely within the walls of her home, missing him already.

———

Their impromptu trip to Sweetwater River evidently broke a barrier between the two of them, because a few weeks later, their rapport is as relaxed and effortless as ever. Betty has yet to approach Jughead about his role in the Serpents, so truthfully there _is_ something unspoken still looming over them, but she’s resolved to push it to the back of her mind. _Forgive and forget_ , she thinks. She’s good at forgiving—always has been. It’s forgetting that will be more difficult.

But she can ignore it. And so that’s what she does; she clenches her jaw, curls her fingers, and smiles through it.

It’s easier to do so when he’s not wearing his leather jacket. Today, for instance, Jughead has picked out a light blue sherpa jacket over a grey flannel, completing the look with his usual dark jeans and black boots. As usual, his suspenders hang from his waist, which Betty finds frustratingly and bewilderingly attractive.

She’s staring, she realizes when he looks up at her through his safety goggles. His left hand is hovering expectantly over the tabletop, occupied by a small block of cesium between a pair of tongs. “Did you grab the beaker?”

Flushing, she tears her gaze away from him and spins around to search through the cabinets. “Sorry, one sec,” she says in a rush, flustered and mentally berating herself for being so distracted around him.

They’ve been learning about exothermic reactions for the past week in Chemistry, and today they’re working on a cesium and water lab as a visible representation of the reaction. Normally, Betty can concentrate fully on Ms. Grundy and her warnings against using a glass beaker for this particular experiment, but Jughead is just too distracting. Betty hurriedly grabs a beaker and fills it with water, placing it on the table in front of them. “Okay, here you go.”

Jughead lifts the tongs over the beaker and something pricks at the back of Betty’s mind suddenly, a sharp jolt warning her that she’s forgotten something. Her hands fly up to her face—goggles, check—and then down to the table as she scans it for anything she may have missed in her rush. It’s all there: cesium, water, tongs, beaker…oh _no_ —

The block of cesium hits the water and explodes, sparks shooting into the air like fireworks and a cloud of hydrogen gas billowing upwards. That much was part of the plan, but what comes next definitely wasn’t—Betty barely has time to throw her arm out in front of Jughead before the beaker explodes too, shards of glass flying in all directions.

She barely registers Jughead’s arms wrapping around her, his hands cupping her face. His mouth is moving, the shape of her name on his lips, but there’s a storm brewing in her head, clouding everything else.

_That’s_ what had been nagging at her. Ms. Grundy’s instructions from the start of class are ringing in her head— _don’t use a glass beaker, it will shatter_ —and she’s mortified, eyes welling with tears and insides squeezed like someone opened an umbrella inside her chest.

This isn’t her. Betty Cooper doesn’t screw up or let anything distract her from her schoolwork, let alone a _boy_. And God, she hurt him—Jughead’s running his hands down her arms and face, searching for cuts, and in any other situation her heart would be beating right out of her rib cage, but all she can focus on is the blood trickling down his left forearm.

_Stupid stupid stupid stupid_ —

“Jug, I’m—” Gasping, she wrenches away, nearly tripping over herself as she runs for the classroom door, lungs on fire and skin burning with shame.

With no destination in mind, Betty flings the door open and _runs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger? Hopefully this time I don't make you wait so long for the next chapter. I have a much better idea of how it's going to play out than last time so cross your fingers with me and maybe our collective willpower will make me write faster.
> 
> But do you know what really inspires me to write? Your comments! If you liked (or disliked) anything at all in this chapter, tell me about it! You have no idea how encouraging it is to hear your feedback. (Or, if you're a fellow writer, you might have some idea.) Tell me your thoughts on Jughead's secret spot, his status as a Serpent, or Kevin and Veronica's advice for Betty.
> 
> And speaking of advice for Betty...man, I wish I could give her a big hug and tell her it's okay. People make mistakes all the time and Jughead obviously wasn't mad at her at all. She's hard on herself (hey, I am too! It's okay) and she'll just have to learn how to cut herself a little more slack. But she'll get there, don't worry. :)
> 
> See you soon, my dears! <3


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, would you look at that? I’m back!
> 
> There are plenty of excuses regarding school and my overwhelmed brain that I could rattle off right now, but you don’t want to hear that. You want the chapter you’ve waited a month for! And GUESS WHAT: it’s here. 
> 
> So hop to it, you lovely humans (at least, I assume you’re all humans. *squints suspiciously*)!

The hallways are empty, not a person in sight, but Betty feels as though she’s suffocating as she flees the classroom. Every footfall rings in her head, her heart pounding to the same rhythm until everything’s on fire and the tears streaming down her face are doing little to put it out.

She’s so _embarrassed_. She can only imagine what her classmates think of her now, what they’ll say—that is, if they hadn’t already noticed her toeing the edge, only a few moments away from buckling under the weight of perfection. 

Betty tries to tell herself she doesn’t care what they think about her, what _anyone_ thinks about her, but it’s just not true. She has such a deep-seated need to please, to live up to the highest expectation, that the very notion that she’s just shattered everyone’s perception of her in one fell swoop is making her stomach knot up and her lungs constrict.

So she runs, the doors of Riverdale High swinging shut behind her as she rushes down the front steps and across the courtyard. With every step she takes, her pristine white Converse slapping against the sidewalk, the frantic beating of her heart slows until she can breathe again, chest heaving with the effort.

A turn and then she’s on her street, the dark roofing of her house visible in the distance. Now that her head is clearer, there’s one thing running through her mind: _what am I doing?_ She now realizes that running away in the middle of the school day is not a great idea, but she’s made it this far and might as well keep going. Her parents are both at work and won’t be home for several hours, so she’ll have the house to herself while she calms down.

Or…

Betty’s only ten feet from her house now, but her eyes skip past the red door and land on the old treehouse in Archie’s backyard, just next door. It’s the place she spent much of her childhood, reading and playing board games with Archie and Jughead. She hasn’t been up there in years. It looks so lonely, the wood faded with age and the branches above it bare. It reminds her so fiercely of herself at that moment—alone, despondent, unmoored—that she makes her decision, continuing past her house and into the Andrewses’ backyard.

_Archie, Jughead, and Betty’s Treehouse_ , the wall reads, faded black ink against worn wood. It’s in her handwriting—the boys had agreed Betty’s was the best out of the three of them. She can almost picture the day she wrote it, lip drawn between her teeth in concentration as she scrawled the message in big looping letters. Archie had grinned at her handiwork with a “Great job, Betty,” but it had been Jughead’s small, secret smile that had filled her with the most satisfaction. 

Now, looking up at the words through the curtain of her tears, she gains the strength to take the final step forward, foot landing on the first rung of the ladder.

———

He doesn’t follow her, not immediately. When the door slams behind her, the whole class is dead silent, some gaping at the closed door while others are still staring in Jughead’s direction, shards of glass at his feet and a bewildered expression on his face. 

“Oh, dear,” he hears Ms. Grundy mutter as she scurries over to his lab table to assess the damage. “Are you alright, Mr. Jones?”

Jughead nods distractedly. “I’m fine.” But he fears Betty isn’t—she seemed to be in too much shock to register the cuts on her face and arms, and it’s not just her physical state he’s worried about. He needs to find her. But first—“It’s my fault, Ms. Grundy. I grabbed the wrong beaker. If anyone’s grade is going to suffer, it should be mine.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Jones,” Ms. Grundy replies wearily, but there’s a twinge of a smile on her lips that makes him think she knows he’s lying for Betty’s sake. (It also makes him think she can tell his feelings for Betty are…more than friendly, to say the least.) “We can discuss a retake of the lab later. For now, I trust you’ll make sure Miss Cooper is alright.”

“Yes. Of course.” With all eyes on him, Jughead hurries out of the classroom, suspenders bouncing against the backs of his thighs as he jogs down the hall to find Betty.

A quick search of all of the girls’ bathrooms turns up empty. (There’s a girl applying lipstick in the second-floor bathroom and she looks at him funny when he pokes his head in and calls Betty’s name, but he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed.) The hallways are the same way, the silence hanging in the air like a breath caught in the lungs. He thinks, amusingly, of the soundless Valley of Sound, a place that comes alive on the pages of his old, worn copy of _The Phantom Tollbooth_. It’s a story he remembers reading countless times in his childhood, sitting with Betty and Archie on that bright red beanbag in the corner of the treehouse.

_The treehouse_. Of course.

With that thought, Jughead pushes open the heavy front doors of Riverdale High and starts off to find Betty.

———

She hears him before she sees him, the sound of his footsteps on the worn wooden ladder breaking the silence. 

“Betty?”

Curled up on the beanbag, head tucked into her arms and cheeks wet with tears, Betty mumbles, “Go away.”

She hears a sigh and then his footsteps start again, this time landing on the floor of the treehouse and continuing to where she’s lying. “I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Betty shifts just enough to peer up at him, gaze blurring with tears once more as his infuriatingly handsome face comes into view. “I’m fine.”

“C’mon, Betts.” He’s sitting cross-legged in front of her now, hands fiddling with the hem of his jeans. “Don’t push me away.”

Like _he_ did all those years ago? Propping herself up on one elbow, Betty glares. “You’re one to talk.”

His gaze flits away, his jaw clenched. She stares, daring him to retort, to apologize, but when he responds, it’s to say, “I told Grundy that the beaker accident was my fault.”

Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that was not one of them. “What?”

Jughead sighs, pushing his beanie off his head and dragging his fingers through his hair. She’s startled for a beat—she _knows_ him, knows that the gesture means he’s giving into vulnerability and letting down his guard. It’s been a long time since he’s been this vulnerable with her. “I don’t think she believed me, but it doesn’t matter. We can redo the lab and get a better grade. You don’t have to worry about your GPA,” he says wryly, but the imploring look in his eyes tells her he knows that her grade is not the extent of her worries. He exhales, and his gaze is so delicate that her heart almost breaks in two again. “Betty…” He traces a line down her arm hesitantly, nervously. Goosebumps race down her spine. “Your arms.”

Betty hugs her arms closer to her chest and drops her gaze. “I’m fine,” she says again, but the sight of the thin trails of blood drying along her skin calls back the memory of… _the incident_ , and her heart throbs painfully in her chest. “I’m fine.”

She knows she’s pushing him away, pretending that the pain is nothing and that she doesn’t need him, but Jughead sees right through her act. He always has. So he moves to sit next to her on the beanbag, wordlessly offering her whatever she needs from him.

Turning, she practically crawls into his lap, her arms winding around his body and her knees curling into his chest. Jughead meets her halfway, tugging her further into his embrace and smoothing his hands down her back in a comforting gesture. “It’s okay,” he whispers into her hair. “You don’t need to hide from me, Betts. Just know…” He pulls back to show her the cut on his arm, now clean and hardly noticeable. “I’m okay. If you’re worried that you hurt me, don’t be. I’m okay.”

“I…” Betty huffs, tucking her face into his chest so he doesn’t detect the redness in her face as she toes around a flat-out admission. “It’s not you, it’s me,” she says, though that’s only partially true. “I’m angry at myself for…for being distracted.”

He hums. “What was on your mind?”

Cheeks aflame, Betty fists his shirt to keep her nails from finding her palms. “Nothing,” she says, maybe a little too quickly. “It’s nothing. I was distracted and I wasn't thinking about Ms. Grundy’s warning. I broke lab equipment. I _hurt_ you.”

“Hey.” Jughead presses a fingertip under her chin to gently bring her gaze to his. “It’s just a little cut. And as for the beaker, even if it was expensive, it’s replaceable.” His voice is low, soothing, and Betty starts to relax further into his embrace as he adds, “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

She focuses on the steady beating of his heart for several seconds before she registers the wet spot her tears have left on his shirt. “God, I’m such a mess,” Betty laughs wetly, pawing halfheartedly at the spot. “Sorry.”

When he chuckles, she can feel it reverberate where her temple is pressed against his chest. “You may be a mess, but you’re the most wonderful mess I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Her heart swoops like she’s on a rollercoaster that’s just done a loop-de-loop. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she teases, tone taking on a flirtatious edge completely (mostly) by accident.

There’s something heady in his gaze, toeing the line between lighthearted and roguish. His mouth is curved into a smirk to match. “Only the ones who physically injure me and then get their snot all over my shirt while trying to apologize.”

Betty scoffs, but his smile is contagious and she finds herself grinning back even as her heart thumps insistently inside her rib cage. Is he flirting back? “Thank you, by the way. For letting me get my snot all over you and for accepting my apology.”

He shrugs modestly. “You’d do it for me.” He pauses. “You’d do it for anyone,” he amends, “which is the difference between you and me. I only let certain people cry on me.”

She smiles. “And who else makes the cut?”

“Just you.” Her heart jolts once, and then again as his words sink in. The unbridled honesty in his eyes is impossible to look away from, even as nervousness creeps into his expression. “Betts, I…”

“What?” Her reply is quiet but firm, encouraging him to speak his mind. They’re inches apart now, so close that it takes her a beat to register when his gaze suddenly flickers with resolve and he’s leaning in to press his lips to hers. 

_Oh._

Her heart, miraculously, doesn’t stop beating. It flutters a little, like a butterfly unfurling its wings for the first time, and she melts into him, her hands sliding up his back to draw him closer. He responds in kind, the fingers of one hand flexing on her hip while the other finds her jaw, winding into the stray curls at the nape of her neck.

There’s a calm that settles over them, a sort of quiet that turns the tension in her body into a different kind of heaviness, pulling her to him like her heart is an anchor dropped into a sea of feeling. The only sound aside from the soft slide of their mouths is the wind combing gently through the trees outside. It seems fitting, she thinks, that the first time she kisses Jughead, shares this piece of herself with him, they’re curled up in the place where they’ve shared all the other little pieces of themselves with each other. 

Except—

“Wait.” She pulls back with a soft pop, running her thumb over his cheek to ease his wounded expression. “If we’re going to…” _Easy, Betty. Bold of you to assume he wants a relationship._ She flushes. “I need to know why you left, why you pushed me away.”

Jughead sighs, shoulders dropping and gaze darting away from hers. “I didn’t have a choice, Betty. I live on the Southside. The only reason I went to Riverdale Elementary was that Fred Andrews convinced the school board to let me go there with you guys until middle school, when they decided they didn’t care what one of the most respected men in town had to say about a scrawny outsider and threw me to the wolves.”

But she already knew all that. And she knows he’s avoiding her real question. She raises an eyebrow, gaze soft but serious. “Jug…”

Jaw clenched, Jughead meets her gaze. His expression is halfway between exasperated and anguished. “Archie was the golden boy; you were the perfect girl next door. And me?” Jughead scoffs, his voice dripping with bitterness. “I’d already overstayed my welcome.” A long, slow breath, and then he softens. “You two were my best friends. My _only_ friends. I didn’t want to drag you down with me.” His gaze is searching her face now, but for what, Betty can’t tell. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

Betty sighs. She gets it; she really does. She understands that he was trying to protect her—from the Southside, from the Serpents, from _him_ if necessary. But why does he have to have such self-destructive tendencies? Can’t he see that pushing people away hurts _himself_ the most? “I’m a big girl, Jug. I can take care of myself. I can handle it, whatever you’re not telling me.”

He must see the determination in her eyes, because he relents. “The Serpents aren’t evil, like Alice and the rest of the Northside wants you to believe. But they’re not…” His voice is low when he says, “I’ve delivered drugs. Nothing hard though, mostly weed. And I…I cut someone once. I regret it now. Betty, I’ve seen bar fights where they both end up dead. I don’t want you anywhere near that.”

“Have you ever considered what I want?” she retorts, pushing against his chest to put some space between them. Does he really think she’s that fragile? Is it because of the façade that she's been shoved behind or despite it? “You can’t _control_ me, Jughead.”

“I know.” He’s clutching at the hem of her shirt like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go. “I know.”

But she’s not done. “And what about you? Why are you so stubborn, so self-sacrificing? Why do you insist that no one wants you here, that you’re such a _burden_?” She’s practically yelling now and he flinches—their faces are still so close—but she can’t help it. Hot, angry tears fill her vision. “Because you’re not. You’ve never been a burden to me. I’ve never cared what people say about you.”

“Even when it’s the truth?” Jughead runs a hand through his hair, a gesture that would drive her crazy if she wasn’t already so worked up in a different way. “Betty, I’m a Serpent. I’m the very thing you’ve been raised to fear, the monster in your closet. The thing your mother slanders daily, all across the pages of her newspaper.”

“Do you think I care about that?” Okay, maybe she does. Just a little. She’s not going to stop believing that gangs can be dangerous just because Jughead is in one. But… “As long as you’re not getting hurt, or hurting someone else, I don’t care about the Serpents. You joined them for a reason, and I suspect you have a similar reason for staying.”

He’s quiet for a while, gaze drifting to the floorboards as he entertains whatever train of thought is running through his head. “I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I’m sorry I didn’t think you could handle it. I just…” He sighs. “I’m so selfish. I…”

“Jughead.” She exhales, and it almost sounds like a laugh. “You’re the least selfish person I know.”

“You don’t…” His jaw is clenched again, but this time nervousness is brewing in his eyes as well. “I’m the Serpent Prince, Betts. My dad is the leader.” _What?!_ Jughead sighs, sounding exhausted, and runs a hand down his face. Betty just stares. “I have a lot of enemies. People who wish they were me, people who want me dead. And if they found out that…that I have a soft spot for you, that I’d do anything for you…” He trails off, and the unguarded emotion in his eyes makes her heart skip a beat. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“I still don’t see how that makes you selfish,” she says lightly, shooting him a small, teasing grin. 

“I—” He shakes his head. They’re just inches away now. His gaze trails down to her mouth, and Betty brings a hand up to the spot, a flush running through her at the memory of his lips on hers. He _kissed_ her. And now he’s huffing out a tortured sigh, saying, “I’m selfish because I’ve been in love with you for over half a decade and I’ve kept it to myself because you’re the only thing that could truly break me.”

She gapes. _He loves her?_ “I… _Jug_ , how…?”

Jughead laughs humorlessly, the sound no more than a heavy exhale. “I _kissed_ you. What did you think that was all about?”

“I don’t know,” Betty admits, finding her voice. She really _hadn’t_ been thinking when he kissed her. “Maybe you’re in the habit of kissing girls who injure you and then get their snot all over you.”

That earns a smile—a real one, his gaze softening into cerulean affection. “Nah, just you.”

( _Just you._

He’s _in love_ with her!)

This time, it’s Betty that leans in first, a single syllable escaping her lips before they’re pressed to his: “ _Jug_.”

He responds with enthusiasm, a little sigh of relief hitting her lips as his fingers curl around the base of her head once more. Her hands wander his arms, his shoulders, and then his collarbones, finally trailing up to card through his hair as she rises onto her knees to press closer. They come apart when she shifts, but his mouth quickly finds hers again, and the breathless giggle they share as their noses brush sparks a little burst of giddiness in her chest. 

It feels _so good_ —every breath passed between them, every brush of fingers against skin. She can’t stop smiling and Jughead leaves three soft kisses against the corner of her mouth before pulling back and matching her grin. “Well,” he says slowly, and a little thrill runs through her at the sight of his mussed hair and darkened gaze, “I’m not sure if kissing is a miracle cure, but I hope it’s at least helping.”

Betty bites her lip at that, wiggling closer like she can’t get close enough. “It is,” she says, grin refusing to fade. And it’s true. She feels lighter already, calmer, more at ease. Her edges have been softened by his touch, by his lips and his love. Even more so, she appreciates his understanding and patience, the solace he offers by opening his arms and his heart to her.

“Thank you,” Betty murmurs into a kiss. “And…” She pulls back just enough to meet his eyes, a bashful smile creeping onto her face as she continues with, “I think I’m in love with you too.”

A pause. “You _think_ you are?” 

Betty can tell his unease is a bit more genuine than he’s trying to let on. “Juggie,” she says soothingly, one hand cupping his cheek to reassure him. He leans into her touch, gaze soft and relieved, and when she looks into his eyes then, she _knows_. “I’m in love with you too,” she clarifies, the words bubbling out of her almost gleefully. “Also, um…earlier, when I said I was distracted, I…” She blushes. “I was distracted by you.”

It takes a beat or two for her words to sink in, but when they do, their effect is obvious—Jughead tsks, a grin poking at the corners of his lips. “Betty Cooper,” he drawls, gaze smoldering with affection and mischief, and her resulting giggle is swallowed by his mouth on hers. 

She falls back into the soft, pliant fabric of the beanbag and he follows, his arms wrapped around her and his heartbeat steady against her chest. When they pull apart, it’s because they’re both smiling too hard.

“ _Jug_ ,” she sighs, his name like a vow on her lips, and it’s a promise she intends on keeping.

———

**Spring, Senior Year**

The door of the trailer is propped open, much to Betty’s surprise. She climbs up the steps carefully, balancing a Tupperware of muffins in her arms while trying not to trip on her graduation gown, and pokes her head inside. “Oh! Hi, Mr. Jones.”

FP glances over his shoulder, spatula in hand, and grins at the sight of her. “Betty. Come on in.” He flips a pancake, cursing when it lands haphazardly against the side of the pan. “And please, it’s FP. You've been dating my son for, what, two years and change?”

She flushes. “Yes. Sorry, it’s a habit,” she replies, cursing her unwavering politeness. Truthfully, she hasn’t spent much time with FP, but he’s right—there’s no need to be so formal with him at this point. “Is Jughead awake?”

“Don’t think so,” is the reply. He waves the spatula in the direction of the trailer’s single bedroom. “Wake him up, will ya?”

Betty nods and sets the Tupperware down on the counter before heading down the hall. She nudges the door open and bites her lip to keep from giggling at the sight of her boyfriend sprawled out across his bed, sheets tangled around his legs.

“Juggie,” she murmurs fondly, sitting cross-legged beside him and brushing his hair back from his forehead. He stirs at her touch, long limbs stretching and then curling toward her once he registers that it’s her.

A soft, languid smile spreads across his face. “Hey,” Jughead says, voice thick with sleep. His hands curl around her back. “C'mere.”

She meets him for a kiss, arms snaking around his back and winding into his hair. She’s still leaning over him, trying not to wrinkle her gown, and after a few beats, he tugs her closer. “C’mere,” he repeats, a little impatiently this time, and Betty takes that as a cue to swing a leg over his body, her knees bracketing his hips.

“Better?” she teases, pulling back in time to catch his smirk. Without warning, he draws her back toward him and flips them so that he’s hovering over her, chuckling against her temple when she squeals.

His lips land in the space behind her ear, breath ghosting across her skin. “ _Much_.”

Now she’s never going to want to leave this bed. (Screw not wrinkling her gown.) “Juggie,” she whines, much more breathlessly than she’d intended, and halfheartedly shoves at his shoulders. The feeling of his mouth trailing down her jaw is heavenly, but… “Your dad’s waiting for us.”

Jughead grumbles against her skin. “So what?”

“He- _Jug_ , he made breakfast,” Betty gasps, her resolve disintegrating under his touch. “Pancakes.”

“Not hungry,” he says, but a beat later his stomach rumbles loudly and betrays him. At her pointed look, Jughead relents, groaning as he rolls off of her. “Fine. To be continued, right after graduation. If Veronica drags us to the Pembrooke for that after-party—” he grins mischievously “—I’ll just ‘accidentally’ lock us in one of the many bedrooms so I can take my time with you.”

Betty sucks her lip into her mouth. In the two and a half years since they started dating, they’ve become _very_ familiar with each other’s bodies. “I’m counting on it.” Planting one last chaste kiss on his mouth, Betty sits up and slips off of the bed, waving him out of the room. “C’mon, Juggie. I brought muffins.”

That gets his attention. He shoots out of bed, practically tripping over the sheets still wrapped around his legs as he kicks them away. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

She giggles as Jughead darts around her and down the narrow hallway, immediately prying the Tupperware of muffins open. FP glances over at his son, amusement playing on his features. “Those things are gonna be gone before you and I get any, Betty.”

“That’s okay,” she laughs, shaking her head fondly at her boyfriend and his bulging cheeks. “I can always make more.”

“Oh my God,” Jughead groans, taking another enormous bite. Betty finds it awfully endearing, how excited he gets about the results of her baking endeavors. “This is _so good_.” He snakes an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her temple. “I love it. I love _you_.”

Betty brushes a crumb off the corner of his lips, a familiar warmth blooming in her chest. They’ve exchanged the sentiment countless times by now, but the feeling never wears off. “I love you too.”

She sits with the Joneses as they eat, taking a couple of pancakes for herself when FP insists she tries them. She’d been too anxious to eat this morning, mind flickering indecisively between relief and nervousness. It’s graduation day—in just a few hours, she’ll be an official high school graduate, one step closer to adulthood. She and Jughead are set to leave for New Haven in August, and though the idea of such a monumental change (as well as her impending valedictorian speech) is tying her stomach in knots, she couldn’t be happier that Jughead is taking the journey with her.

(Just a year ago, he’d told Betty that there was no way he’d be able to go to college with his status as the future leader of the Serpents and his father’s condition, which had been the reason he’d joined the Serpents in the first place. But FP has been steadily improving since participating in a rehab program during a brief stint in jail, and he’d ultimately been the one to convince Jughead to apply for college. The Serpents had been less enthusiastic about the idea of losing their future leader, but the Serpent King had given Jughead his blessing and that was enough for the rest of the gang. Now, with the help of a full-ride scholarship, Jughead is set to attend Yale University alongside his girlfriend.)

“Go get changed, boy,” FP tells his son once all their plates are empty. “And Betty,” he tuts, shooing her hands away when she tries to help him clear the table, “no need. Give those manners a break.”

She flushes. “Sorry, Mr. Jo-FP.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, carrying the plates to the sink. “I’m glad to have you around. Keeps my boy in line.” He winks, and she can’t help but giggle at that. When Jughead reappears around the corner, tugging at his gown with a scowl, FP chuckles. “You look great, Jug. Now you two better head out before you’re late.” To Betty, he calls, “Good luck on your speech!”

“This is ridiculous,” Jughead grumbles, fiddling with the too-short sleeves of his gown, but is quickly placated when Betty stamps a kiss on his cheek.

“Ready?” she asks, nodding toward the open doorway. His confident nod is the only confirmation she needs.

—

The first thing Betty notices is how _full_ the gym is. Not a single chair in all the rows reserved for the audience is empty. Parents, teachers, and friends stand and applaud as the graduates file into the gym, the marching band accompanying them with a jubilant rendition of Riverdale High’s fight song. 

She spots her parents a few rows back, her mother sporting a smile bigger than Betty’s ever seen on her. She beams back, waving and laughing to herself as she wills her tears not to fall.

She’s _finally_ here. Every moment until now has been leading up to this one, and she couldn’t be more elated or more terrified.

Betty finds her seat between Chuck and Joaquin, the latter of which she’s friendly enough with to share a quick smile, and sticks her hands under her thighs to keep her palms from clenching with nerves as Principal Weatherbee takes the stage.

“Welcome, Class of 2020 graduates,” he begins, but she doesn’t hear a word of his speech as her head swims with her own. She runs over it, again and again, and almost trips over her gown when her row is suddenly called to the stage for diplomas.

When it’s her turn to receive her diploma—“Elizabeth Cooper,” Weatherbee announces, turning toward her with a hand extended—Betty exhales long and slow before calling up a smile that feels more and more genuine with every step she takes. Principal Weatherbee smiles and shakes her hand before handing her the diploma. She barely registers the feeling of it, light in her hand—instead, she focuses on scanning the crowd for Jughead. When her gaze alights on him, he’s already looking at her, and the pride in his eyes is immeasurable. _Love you_ , he mouths, clear as day, and warmth coats her insides like honey.

When it’s _his_ turn, she’s the loudest one cheering.

And when she’s called back up to the stage to give her valedictorian speech, she finds him in the audience again, already watching her, and at that moment, she lets all her nerves melt away.

Smoothing her hands down the front of her graduation gown, Betty feels a smile settle onto her face as she opens her mouth to begin.

—

Veronica corners her after the ceremony. “Oh my God. Betty Cooper, your _speech_.” Her voice is thick with tears, eyes blazing with what looks to be a mix of indignation and admiration. “I started crying at some point and I couldn’t stop. _This_ —” she gestures to her face, mascara running in two thin trails down her cheeks “—this is your fault.” She clutches at Betty’s forearms. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too,” Betty says, her own eyes filling with tears even as she giggles at Veronica’s dramatics. “And oh my God, I was so nervous. I’m glad you think I did okay.”

“Okay?” She whirls around, grin growing impossibly larger as she comes face-to-face with her boyfriend. His smile is uncharacteristically full as well. “Betts, that was better than okay. You’re a damn good writer, and now I know you’re a damn good public speaker too.”

“ _Juggie_.” Overwhelmed by the flattery, she buries herself in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent as he plants kiss after kiss onto the top of her head. “We’re-we’re graduates,” she says finally, leaning back just far enough to speak. “We _graduated_.”

His grin is like the sunrise, brighter and brighter the longer he gazes at her. “We did. And after this, we’re going to Connecticut and we’re gonna have it all.”

She’s always been excited about her future, but now that he’s in it for sure, it’s infinitely better. Biting her lip to restrain another megawatt smile, she replies, “I can’t wait.”

“Hate to break this moment,” Veronica cuts in, face now wiped clean of mascara. Where she hides her makeup wipes in that gown, Betty has no idea. “But it’s time to celebrate. Betty-bee, want to ride with me? Jughead, you’re welcome to come along too, of course.”

Betty beams. “Yeah, let’s just—”

“We’ll meet you there in a bit,” Jughead interrupts, to which Betty raises a curious eyebrow. “There’s somewhere I’d like to take Betty first.”

“Ah.” Veronica winks. “Of course. Have fun,” she calls, squeezing Betty’s arm and then disappearing into the crowd.

But unlike Veronica, Betty isn’t entirely convinced Jughead is intending on fulfilling the promise he’d made this morning quite yet. His expression is far too soft, too open. “What is it, Jug?”

He doesn’t reply for several beats, gaze flickering across her face thoughtfully. “I just want to spend a little time with you before we join the partygoers.”

Right now, to Betty, nothing sounds better. “Okay.” She slips her hand into his.

They’re ambushed by her parents and FP before they can go anywhere—it feels so good to hear her mother say, “Betty, honey, I’m so proud of you,” and even better when FP responds, “You’re damn lucky, Alice. Your girl is the best of the best”—but mercifully, it’s a short visit. They’re driving down Elm Street in no time, Jughead at the wheel.

Betty peers out the window as her house comes into view. “Jug?”

There’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You’ll see.” He parks in her driveway but leads her toward the Andrews house, and as they pass through the gate into the backyard, Betty suddenly realizes where they’re heading.

She hasn’t been inside the treehouse since the day she’d caused an accident in Chem class and Jughead had come looking for her. She understands why he’s brought her here now—it was their haven in childhood and later the location of a pivotal point in their relationship. It’s only fitting they spend their first moments as high school graduates, their last few moments as teenagers, here. Together. 

“Juggie,” she murmurs gratefully, tucking her head under his chin once they’re curled up on the beanbag. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

In his eyes, she sees all of the love and appreciation she feels for him reflected right back at her. “Of course.” Her eyes flutter closed as his lips brush her forehead once, twice. “So, are you ready for a new adventure?”

Betty smiles, soft and sincere, and lets the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat coax the answer out of her. “ _So_ ready.”

**fin.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that’s a wrap! I hope you enjoyed the resolution as well as the little taste of what’s to come for Bughead! (Who knows, maybe I’ll write a coda someday. You never know with me—I’m just full of surprises lol.)
> 
> Another huge thank you to my lovely beta and friend colesprousesbandana for putting up with my monkey business. :)
> 
> As always, thank you endlessly for all your support for this fic, and I hope to see you down in the comments section if you’re feeling like it today! If not, see you next time. <3


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